


Rose Splattered Glasses

by magicmidna



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Don't read this if you haven't gotten past chapter 2 in SDR2, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, One Shot, Spoilers, This isn't really a ship fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22936669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicmidna/pseuds/magicmidna
Summary: Peko realizes she may have emotions after all. If only they didn't show up at the worst possible moment.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Rose Splattered Glasses

She had never wanted to kill the other girl. But for Peko,  _ want _ was never a word accepted into her vocabulary.

Of course, she had always intended on killing Mahiru. There would be no reason to so carefully forge the pleading letters back and forth between the photographer and her spritely blonde companion if she hadn’t. If that was the case, then what could explain this strange pain blossoming in Peko’s brain, blurring her vision as if she’d taken off her glasses?

The swordswoman grasped for the lenses on her face, attempting to clean them vigorously on the short gray swim skirt she wore. All she achieved was spreading a thin coat of rose colored droplets across the glass. She noticed movement on her right, a formless blond shape shifting towards her. Her hands shot back to her face to put her glasses on, her mind and body coming into focus as her vision did the same.

The blond boy next to her was looking past the rose-tinted glasses and directly into her eyes. “P-Peko?” He managed to squeak out, his face contorted into an awful shape. “Why did you…?”

She looked down at him blankly. Her response would always be the same. “I did it for you, Young Master. If you were found to be a murderer, you would be executed, as Monokuma showed us earlier.” A metal bat hung from her hand; dead weight. 

Fuyuhiko was grasping for an answer, his entire body begging the universe just to go back in time and  _ fix this. _ “All that means is… you’ll be executed if you’re found out…!” The yakuza’s eyes squeezed shut, willing it all to go away.

A small shake of the head from Peko. “I won’t be. And even if I was, I have a plan. You need not worry yourself with my well being, Young Master. It is time for you to leave before you raise suspicion.” 

He opened his mouth to protest before closing it in the same breath. It was terrifying, but he knew he could trust Peko to make sure everything worked out. She had never let him down before. Besides, he knew it was impossible to convince her of anything when it came to his safety. A deep sigh came from his lips, and he smiled at her weakly. “Alright. Just…. Make sure you don’t die on me now, got it? If you do, I’ll cave your fucking head in!” That last line made Fuyuhiko grimace; perhaps it was in poor taste, he thought, as he looked over at the body of Mahiru on the floor. 

Blood spurted from the crater in the photographer’s head, dyeing her cherry red hair an even darker shade of crimson. Her lips were parted, readied for a scream that never got a chance to leave her lungs. All it had taken was one solid hit from the bat in Peko’s hand, now covered in dripping blood, bits of hair, and perhaps even shards of skull.

He should have been used to seeing corpses by now, but each one still made a slight chill run down his spine. With one more glance at his best friend, he exited quickly and quietly, drawing no suspicion. 

Left alone without her master, the pain began to seep back into Peko’s brain. What exactly was wrong with her? Water began to rise in her lungs, but she continued to move quickly in order to prepare the crime scene. With every step, inky blackness crept further and further towards the center of her vision. With every planted clue, a small voice she had never heard before started to whisper in the back of her head. She knew the dancer would awaken soon, so she slid into place in the storage closet and waited.

And waited.

Her thoughts crashed into her mind, violent waves of the worst things Peko had ever felt. The voice grew to an audible volume, repeating one word over and over: “Why?” It got louder and louder with each passing second, becoming an awful, brash cacophony that let her think of nothing else. 

Why? The answer was obvious. She knew her Young Master would get frustrated with Mahiru and lash out. Her job was to protect him, so she would commit the crime for him. It didn’t matter that she was the one murdering Mahiru; because of her status as a tool, she was not the one doing the killing. 

Tools were not supposed to ask why. Tools were not supposed to feel. And yet, in this moment, she seemed to be doing both.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first fic so I hope you enjoyed it! I was struck with inspiration to do a Peko one shot since I love her character a lot. This isn't the best that I've ever written and I wish I could expand on everything a bit more, but it's now 4 am and I can feel my eyelids rolling down as I type this. I might end up working on some more Peko stuff in the future, please let me know if you have any constructive criticism for me in the comments! Thank you all so much!


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